


"Age of Consent" and "Maternal Interlude"

by jamelia116, Voyager_Virtual Season_7-5_Staff_Writers (jamelia116)



Series: Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 [19]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 11:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20007319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/jamelia116, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/Voyager_Virtual%20Season_7-5_Staff_Writers
Summary: It's decision time on Voyager: Naomi is pressing Icheb for a formal engagement, even though she's more than three years shy of the traditional Ktarian Age of Consent; Marla Gilmore is reluctant to give Harry Kim the Answer to the Question he keeps asking her; and Tom and B'Elanna's daughter has decided to be born only when she's ready, and not a moment before.





	1. "Maternal Interlude," a Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Before the main story, a short prelude: "Maternal Interlude" (which actually takes place a week or two before "Age of Consent" begins -- it's sort of a prologue to the prologue of the main story).

**Maternal Interlude**  
  
**by jamelia**  
  
**A Prelude to "Age of Consent"**

  
  
"What are you trying to tell me, Doctor?"  
  
Tom winced. He knew what the Doctor was going to say to B'Elanna, and he wished he were anywhere but here while that particular message was delivered. In fact, he'd rather crash land _Voyager_ again rather than be here at this moment, but it was his duty, both as the Doctor's chief field medic as well as B'Elanna's husband, to be in Sickbay while this news was delivered.  
  
If only his daughter would be willing to be delivered, there wouldn't even have to _BE_ any bad news, but that was precisely the problem. He took a small, telling step backward, however, away from an easy swipe of a half-Klingon fist.  
  
"Well, B'Elanna, you know that your pregnancy has lasted a bit longer than we had anticipated," the EMH said, in a modulated, calming tone of voice.  
  
"Perfectly," B'Elanna snapped.  
  
The Doctor tried again. "You know that your mixed heritage has made it a little difficult at times to predict how any given medical condition might progress with you. Your daughter seems to be taking after you in that regard. And, of course, babies are notorious for coming in their own, very good time, not caring whether it's convenient for their parents or medical staff or . . ."  
  
"Get to the point." Crossing her arms tightly over her generous bosom and resting them on the rounded shelf of her abdomen, B'Elanna glared at the EMH.  
  
_Come on, Doc. Spit it out. No use trying to placate this particular patient--you know that_ , Tom thought. Sometimes, Tom had learned all too well, it was better just to get things over with, but the EMH had always had trouble with that--even though he'd cared for B'Elanna's medical needs for years.  
  
Sighing dramatically, the Doctor finally admitted, "I seem to have miscalculated a little about the length of your pregnancy . . ."  
  
"I KNOW that already, Doctor! You told me that a month ago! The pregnancy was going to be eight and a HALF months, not eight months, like a typical Klingon pregnancy!"  
  
It was Tom's turn to sigh as B'Elanna's temper bubbled over into a stream of curses, human, Klingon, Bajoran, and a few others in languages that Tom didn't even recognize. B'Elanna still had the capacity to surprise him in so many endearing little ways.  
  
As B'Elanna caught her breath, the EMH slipped in hurriedly, "B'Elanna, it looks like your daughter is choosing to be completely human for the length of her gestation . . ."  
  
"What are you trying to say, Doctor? Just spit it out!" B'Elanna shrieked.  
  
"You're having a typical human pregnancy--forty weeks. You're not going to be overdue for another two weeks," Tom said quickly. "Don't hit us; we're only the messengers."  
  
"Tom! I can't stand this for another two weeks! I feel like I've had a dozen gel packs strapped around my gut for months now! It's supposed to be over! I want it to be over! Now!"  
  
"B'Elanna, I want it to be over now, too. I want to look at my daughter's face and hold her myself, for a change, instead of you having all the fun . . ."  
  
"Some fun, Paris! I'll be happy to hold her IF SHE EVER DECIDES TO COME OUT AND BE BORN! Can't you do something? The fetal transporter? PLEASE?"  
  
"Such an intrusive technique should only be used _in extremis_ , B'Elanna. You know I would perform the procedure if it were warranted, but it isn't. Not yet. Your baby simply isn't quite ready to be born," the EMH explained.  
  
"And B'Elanna, even by human standards, just because you won't be overdue for two more weeks doesn't mean you'll have to wait that long. Miral could be born sometime in the next couple of days. The baby's begun to drop, hasn't she, Doc?" Tom's heart sank as he caught the reaction of the Doctor to his question.  
  
"She's begun to drop slightly," the Doctor hedged.  
  
Tom's groan matched B'Elanna's.  
  
"However, to look on the bright side, babies sometimes drop very precipitously in Klingon and human mothers alike. It could be any day. Tom's right, B'Elanna. So just go and relax while you wait..."  
  
"I'm SICK of waiting, Doctor, especially now! There are hundreds of repairs that need to be done, and my staff is shorthanded as it is. I can't stand having to hang around any more without anything to do when everyone else is working so hard to fix the ship! _Voyager_ needs me! My engines need me! And as long as I'm like this, you won't let me anywhere near them!"  
  
"Absolutely not! After all of our care to avoid radiation damage to the fetus up to now, there's no point in taking any undue risks now," the Doctor said.  
  
"Maybe we can ask the captain if there are some jobs you can do from our quarters, B'Elanna. Or maybe there are some things needed to be done where radiation contamination won't be a problem. You can look at Joe's slipstream research and see if you can suggest any refinements. Do some computer studies. It's only going to be a few more days, B'Elanna, no matter how tough it is to wait. Hold on to that thought. It really isn't going to be long now. You'll see."  
  
Tom stepped forward and took his wife's hands in his, giving them a little squeeze. She moaned a little, then sighed. Finally, with a tremendous effort, she said, "Okay. It's only going to be for a few more days. But I refuse to be treated like an invalid until then, understood?"  
  
"Perfectly," Tom replied  
  
"I'll go talk to the captain."  
  
"Good idea, B'Elanna" he agreed, smiling slightly. They were over the hump now.  
  
"Want to come with me?"  
  
"I have to ask the Doc about my schedule here. I'll be along in a few minutes."  
  
Once the doors to Sickbay were safely closed behind his wife, Tom turned to the EMH. "Doc, she's okay for now. But extra shifts in here as a field medic during the next couple of weeks or so wouldn't be such a bad idea, either."  
  
"Noted. I must say, she took that rather well, didn't she?"  
  
"She sure did, Doc. But you better keep that osteoregenerator in good working order for me, just in case she backslides a little."  
  
"That, as well as a kit with infant delivery supplies, will be available to you at all times, Mr. Paris. In fact, take this kit with you right now. Just in case."  
  
Tom sighed as he accepted the package from the Doctor. B'Elanna wasn't the only one who had to keep saying to herself, "Just a few more days." It wasn't bad advice for Miral's daddy, either.

Almost the End...

And now, on to "Age of Consent"


	2. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder: In our series, Naomi is a year older, looks like a teenager, and thinks of herself as "almost an adult." (Picture a younger version of "adult Naomi Wildman" in "Shattered.")

****Prologue  
  
He was basking in a hazy sea of contentment, supported by silken cascades of reddish-gold filaments. She floated nearby. He could not see her face, but he could sense her presence. As long as they were near each other, he knew all would be well.   
  
Her sweetly musical voice murmured into his ear, bringing the first stirrings of a subtle excitement that disturbed his peaceful mood, yet, paradoxically, also had the potential to increase his tranquil emotions. But what were her words? He could barely hear them, let alone distinguish what they were, yet they had the power to transform him into another sort of being. He could sense being swept away with the changes, but he was powerless to stop them.   
  
His heart began to race as soft lips bent towards his, touching them gently, fervently. Ethereal hands gently massaged his palms. From the tips of his own fingers a warmth began to flow, increasing with every pulse. Up his arms, suffusing through his body and limbs, he became warmer and warmer every second until tendrils of hair, moistened by the sheen that appeared upon his skin, drew tighter, binding him in their grip. He could barely move air into his lungs. With every breath the tangle bound him more deeply. His heart pounded harder and harder until he was strangled by the rush of blood flooding through his being.   
  
Fantasies of delights, as yet unknown in his experience, insinuated into his consciousness. Simultaneously, he was exhilarated and terrified by the perceptions now assaulting him. What was the cause of this bizarre dichotomy? Why was he as apprehensive it would end as he was that it would continue, until his entire body exploded into fragments of agonized bliss?  
  
The thrill of fearful excitation washed through him, carrying him away beyond the ability to use reason or discipline to control what was happening to him. In a matter of moments he would hurtle upon a rocky shore; his body would be painfully crushed into ecstasy, and he would lose himself at that moment. His only chance of survival was to grab hold of the lifeline that seemed so near, yet impossibly far away. Through waves of torment he sought a path to salvation; finally he thought he had found it. The lifeline was the voice which knocked its way into his awareness, calling him by name and commanding him to...  
  
"Get up, Sleepyhead!"   
  
For a moment Icheb was so disoriented by his visions of Naomi, so realistic had been his dream, he could have sworn she was there with him. Guiltily, he tried to purge himself of the images tumbling through his mind. Their effect upon him was as uncomfortable physically as it was sublime emotionally. If he could only shake them off...  
  
"Icheb! Wake up! You're late for your shift!"   
  
Icheb startled fully awake. No wonder he thought Naomi was there with him. She was standing over him, shaking his shoulder. Shaking him awake. At the same time she was scolding, she was laughing at him. As glad as he was to see her, he was also extremely uncomfortable to have her near to him so soon after those passionate visions. He could not get out of bed with her there, since his pajamas would advertise, not hide, the degree to which they had affected him.   
  
Icheb had what Tom Paris called a "hunch." Today was going to be a wild day.  
  



	3. Act 1

**Act 1**  
  
"You have all the data you need?" Kathryn Janeway said, as she looked towards her first officer, who was seated on her couch. Morning light spilling through her Ready Room window highlighted the silver strands that were usually fairly well buried within his thick black hair.  
  
"Enough. I'd prefer to have more exact figures, but it's clear that _kolander_ ore is particularly abundant throughout the northern continent."  
  
"If we can get better figures for you, I'll contact your shuttle by subspace," she replied. "Even if we take a substantial supply, the four Treaty Worlds should have all they'll need in the future, if they ever discover how to use it."  
  
"Given their current levels of technology, they won't know _kolander_ ore is something they'd need in the future until we start asking about it. Isn't that stretching the Prime Directive? If not breaking it?"  
  
"I don't know, Chakotay. But if we don't ask for it, how are we going to get it? They're just as eager to get us off their 'Treaty Planet,' as we are to leave. Joe Carey's slipstream drive concept is our best hope to get home soon. We have to take the chance that the admirals at home will see it that way. As long as we don't share any actual technology, we should be all right."  
  
"How do you want me to respond if they ask us to share our technology? I'm sure the subject will come up."  
  
"Explain the Prime Directive the best that you can. Tell them that knowing the ore has some sort of use they do not yet know about is as far as we can go. If the Treaty Worlds all work together, that's all the hint they'll need. And if they don't work together, they're likely to destroy each other sooner rather than later, and it won't be a problem. In any case, we don't have a choice. We need the ore. Do the best you can to be evasive. Improvise." His eyes met hers as she spoke, eliciting a thrill of excitement that she immediately suppressed. This was neither the time nor the place for them to surrender to those emotions, although she dearly wished it could be otherwise.  
  
"Shall I tell them a story?" His eyes danced.  
  
"By all means, Commander," she laughed. After a few seconds, the enormity of taking leave from him caught up to her again. Soberly, she added, " _Please_ be careful, Chakotay."  
  
"I will. No abductions this trip. No one would dare, not after last time!"  
  
"I still wish you were taking the _Delta Flyer_."  
  
"We'll be fine in the _Sacajawea_."  
  
"You don't mind dropping off the team at Tall Girl Mountain, do you? If the repairs on the _Copernicus_ had been completed, they could have traveled north on their own."  
  
"I don't mind, Kathryn. The team will have to deal with being in close quarters on the way up, but it’s only a couple of hours. They're all young. They'll be fine. And I don't think a delay of an hour or so will make much difference to Harry and me, or our mission to ask the Treaty Worlds for permission to set up a temporary mining facility up there."  
  
The captain shrugged. He was right. The side trip really wouldn't significantly delay their primary mission. It was annoying that it was necessary at all, however. "Chakotay, do you think there's _really_ anything wrong with the _Delta Flyer's_ navigational array?"  
  
"You're not accusing our chief engineer of being possessive about her husband's pet shuttle, are you?" he asked, stifling a smile.  
  
"Well, it's certainly convenient that navigation, one of the few systems on board that's relatively radiation-free to fix, is 'out of commission,' don't you think?"  
  
"She's a bundle of nerves, Kathryn. Let her tinker with something before she goes crazy. And it's better the _Flyer_ stays here anyway. The transporters on our other shuttles can't cut through the interference from _kolander_ ore, and as long as _Voyager_ remains on the ground, its range is so limited, the ship’s transporters are down, for all intents and purposes. We don't know enough about the dangers to our crew from seismic activity in that region to discount the possibility they'll need rescue. In an emergency, the _Delta Flyer_ would be needed here."  
  
"True enough," the captain admitted. Considering several of the other assignments planned for the upcoming week, an emergency could well arise at some point. Those traveling to the Tall Girl Mountain area of the northern continent were certainly at risk of accident or injury.  
  
After the away team surveying that area stumbled upon rich deposits of kolander ore and noticed inclusions of dilithium and b _enamite_ crystals in the ore, the team "rediscovered" Chemical Reaction 887 -- long known to the Borg, but not to any other species _Voyager_ had encountered. That reaction stated that when _kolander_ is in close proximity to dilithium, natural _benamite_ crystals can form.  
  
In order to utilize the quantum slipstream technology, which they'd first learned about from Arturis' ship, the _Dauntless_ , they needed a good supply of benamite, which unfortunately was unstable. Despite their previous lack of success using that drive, B'Elanna and her second in command Joe Carey had always believed they could adapt it to _Voyager_. As B'Elanna's advanced pregnancy forced her to limit her exposure to radiation, Joe and Ensign Vorik were now the lead researchers. Their recent experiments had been promising.  
  
Subatomic vibrations from the two types of crystals created harmonics which, if _kolander_ deposits were extensive, caused earthquakes. That suggested seismically active locations were the best places to find the substance. However, even small quantities of the mineral might be problematic to use. Joe Carey now suspected the phase variances which ruined the crew's first attempt to use the technology may have been a consequence of discordant vibrations from _benamite's_ interaction with dilithium crystals in _Voyager's_ warp drive. Because the Zornon Cloak's subsonic oscillations clashed with their transwarp coil, leading to a catastrophic failure of _Voyager's_ systems, Joe's current research centered on ways to synchronize the various resonance waves, to avoid a repeat of that end result.  
  
Thanks to the crash landing on New Hope, the crew practically had to rebuild _Voyager's_ warp engines anyway. Adding slipstream technology at the same time made sense. Although B'Elanna's transwarp experiment had only been partially successful, this was the crew that never gave up. If the crew successfully adapted the slipstream drive to _Voyager_ , returning home in months, rather than decades, might become a reality.  
  
And if it didn't work, they'd just try something else. Kathryn Janeway may well be proudest of that. If will alone could do it, _Voyager's_ crew would get it done.  
  
Almost as an afterthought, Chakotay said, "I hope the governing body is willing to talk to _me_ about granting us permission to mine the ore. They may insist on talking to you personally..."  
  
"They'd better talk to you, Commander! We know they have ambassadors in place on each of the Treaty Worlds already. You're my ambassador and my 'co-leader.' If they're serious about developing their own Federation of Planets, they'll need to accept the delegation of responsibility in situations such as this. "  
  
"And if not, you'll be the one to teach it to them," he said dryly.  
  
"I'm sure you can handle the job. Just let Harry do the driving...I don't want you to spend any more time filling out insurance claim forms."  
  
As he laughed, she mentally added, ' _and come home quickly and safely to us...and to me.'_  
  
Her heart ached with longing for what she knew could not be. How she wished she _could_ go with Chakotay to request permission to mine the precious ore instead of Harry, but that wasn't a wise thing to do at any time, but particularly not now. The last time they had left to go on a diplomatic mission together, it had gone terribly wrong. They'd been gone for weeks, lost to their crew and derelict in their duties through no fault of their own. The Gunruth'u practice of abducting beings from their neighboring worlds had been brought to light when they unwisely kidnapped Janeway, Chakotay, and Harry Kim, wiped their memories, and impressed them into their planetary workforce. Since then, the Oligarchy had been exceedingly cooperative with their neighbors, the Minenne, Grevel-Ash, and Vordai. They had little choice, in the face of their former enemies forming a united front against them.  
  
That mission had gone wrong in some ways--but, oh, so right in others! For six wonderful weeks she'd been free of the exigencies of command. She could be Kathryn to his Chakotay without reservation. Her status as his superior officer had been erased from both their minds.  
  
Those weeks were now just a memory, as if the isle on which they had spent them had been as outside of time as they had been in an out-of-the-way place. For the past five years, she had compartmentalized her memories of New Earth in much the same way; but the exile she'd spent with Chakotay on New Earth had been a very different experience from life on the island on Gunruth'u.  
  
On New Earth, despite their eventual acceptance of the fact that they could never return to _Voyager_ (a false assumption, as it happened), Chakotay and Kathryn had never taken the final steps to physical intimacy. Perhaps a better way to put it would be to say they had not _yet_ taken that step, for clearly they would have, had they remained on New Earth for much longer. On the Oligarch's island, with their memories wiped clean of their roles in normal life, they'd been free to consummate their immediate attraction. She could acknowledge that fact to herself now, if not directly to him.  
  
She remembered every precious moment of the time Chakotay and Kathryn spent together as partners in adventure and, especially, lovers. Such memories were not easy to live with. Total abstinence, she had always thought, was the only way she could maintain the iron control she'd always thought she must maintain if she were to be an effective leader. With Voyager flung to the other side of the galaxy, she couldn't risk anything that might distract her from her mission to get her crew home. Now that she knew exactly what she was missing, it was far more difficult to bear each day of self-induced isolation. It was painful to say good-bye, even for just for the few days he planned to be away.  
  
And when had anything ever gone as planned since they'd arrived in the Delta Quadrant?  
  
His soft, "Anything else, Captain?" brought her back to the present. A true professional, he held himself alert and at attention as he stood in front of her, PADD in hand; but the tone of his voice and the tenderness in his eyes spoke the truth. He remembered the island outside of time, too. It was no easier for him to say good-bye to her.  
  
"Hurry back, Commander."  
  
"I will," he said. If his voice was a little huskier than usual, well, what of that? Hers was, too.  
  
*  
  
As Icheb blinked his eyes and wrapped the thermal blanket higher around his neck, Naomi sternly asked, "Are you finally awake, Icheb?" Her voice was severe, but she was smiling affectionately at him. "I'm not surprised you overslept. It's so cold out here at night, it must be difficult getting to sleep. Just about everyone else went back to their quarters weeks ago. Why are you still living in this tent? Wouldn't you be more comfortable inside?"  
  
He had already explained it to her several times. Sleeping in a tent brought him close to the natural world of plants and animals. While Icheb appreciated the benefits of modern technology as much as anyone on _Voyager_ , a part of him responded viscerally to this other world, so antithetical to what the Borg had tried to make of him.  
  
Walking home to his tent at the end of Beta shift, the sight of the full glory of stars through the atmosphere of this unspoiled world could snatch his breath away. Watching the sun rise over the steppes at dawn, seeing a small burrowing animal popping up out of his home in the soil, or following the sweep of avian wings sailing upon the air currents far above his head: all of these nourished the soul of his biological being with something for which he had no name, and perhaps needed none.  
  
He knew it was essential for him to experience these things. He had only a few memories of his life before his assimilation. Perhaps he had simply been too young for the wonders of creation to have fully registered with him. While he had enjoyed watching the stars with his parents during that short, bittersweet interlude before they sent him to the Borg a second time, his native world had been so ravaged by Borg attacks, almost all traces of natural beauty had not been in evidence during the few days he lived there. Since the Brunali could teach Federation scientists a great deal about biotechnology, Icheb thought they must have cherished their planet's original ecosystem for them to be so determined to restore it by manipulating plant and animal genomes to do so. He felt appreciating nature was as vital a part of his education as his Starfleet courses in the history of the Federation, astronavigation, or warp mechanic technology were. Neglecting the hunt for his own identity and his place in the cosmos put him at risk of losing something the Borg had already attempted to steal from him. He might still have a number of Borg implants threaded throughout his body, but he would be a biological being for as long as he lived.  
  
Some of _Voyager's_ crew encouraged him in this search for his true self. Although born to the Brunali to serve as their weapon against the Borg (which he had actually become, although not in the way his natural parents and race had expected), for all intents and purposes, Icheb now belonged to another people. He anticipated spending the rest of his life in the Federation, particularly in the part dominated by human beings. He felt a need to encourage this nascent "humanity" of his by a return to nature.  
  
Although Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Tom Paris did not, on the surface, share a taste for many of the same pursuits, both had mentored Icheb in their own ways. Chakotay's was by example. He had established a "lodge" located near Icheb's campsite, where he spent as much time as he could, experiencing the natural world in much the same way Icheb was doing. Tom, a voracious reader from his earliest years, had suggested Icheb explore literature, from essays by Henry David Thoreau and the Transcendentalists to novels like "The Last of the Mohicans" and "Dances With Wolves," to understand how humans living centuries ago had lived in harmony with nature. Icheb enjoyed viewing old 2D cinematic versions of the novels. The protagonists in these fictional portrayals had adopted new ways of life they deemed better, more in tune with all living things than their old ones had been. For obvious reasons, this struck a chord in a Delta Quadrant native who hoped to adopt a new way of life in the Alpha Quadrant.  
  
It did not escape Icheb's notice that many of the titles Tom recommended were filled with Native American lore and values. Icheb saw no sign that either man realized this connection, though Icheb thought the commander should have some inkling of it. Having learned of Tom's attempt to save the water world of Monea the year before the youth came to live on _Voyager_ , Icheb thought Tom's reverence for life should be more widely recognized, despite the pilot's studied air of irreverence.  
  
What is obvious to some often escapes the notice of others, however, as Icheb also had learned. His own earnest attempts to describe his personal odyssey to his Naomi had been beyond her comprehension. So all he said was, "I like it out here."  
  
"I worry about you getting sick from the cold," Naomi fussed.  
  
"I have lots of blankets. If I did feel uncomfortable, I'd go inside _Voyager_. It gets pretty warm here in the daytime, though." The four-man tent, now occupied only by Icheb, was nestled against the north face of a small hill, a kilometer or so from where _Voyager_ had come to rest upon the surface of New Hope. The rocky outcrop sheltered the tent from the prevailing winds even as they absorbed heat basking in the sun all day. It did tend to get very cold late at night, however. A heater issued from the ship's survival stores helped; and when certain thoughts and dreams came to him, the cold night air had an effect that was very much like a "cold shower." Tom assured him this was very helpful when dreams of one's beloved became too real--as they had on other nights before this. Now, with the subject of his visions standing right here before him, Icheb was reluctant to stand up in front of her.  
  
"Are you getting up now, or will I have to drag you out of bed?" Naomi demanded.  
  
Icheb grimaced. He'd known she wouldn't make this easy. Tom had also taught him that the direct approach, risking possible hurt feelings, was sometimes the best course of action. Icheb suspected B'Elanna Torres had instructed his mentor on the merits of that particular lesson. It seemed appropriate to exercise it now.  
  
"Yes, Naomi, I am getting up now--if you will please leave me alone long enough to get dressed."  
  
Naomi's expression became thoughtful, but she flipped open the tent flap and walked back outside without commenting further. Once he was sure she was safely out of the tent, he sighed softly and arose to prepare for the day to come.  
  
Although she was no longer in the tent, Naomi had not gone far away. Her voice came to him from outside almost as clearly as if she were still in there with him. "You'd better hurry. We've got to get to the _Sacajawea_ by 0900."  
  
"The _Sacajawea_? Isn't Lieutenant Kim taking us in the _Delta Flyer?_ " Icheb asked, as he stepped into his pants.  
  
"Nope. Lieutenant Torres found a glitch in the _Flyer's_ navigational system last night. Don't ask me why she was checking over the _Delta Flyer_ after midnight in her condition! But whatever she found, she convinced the captain to ground the _Flyer_ until she's had a chance to fix it--by herself. 'No one else has time,' she told the captain."  
  
"She's right about that, Naomi. No one else can be spared to make repairs on a shuttle right now. Not when _Voyager_ still needs so much work." He grunted the last sentence from the effort of pulling on his boots.  
  
"Especially if there's nothing really wrong with the _Flyer_ at all," Naomi agreed smugly, a mischievous lilt in her voice. "I think the real reason she found a 'problem' is that she doesn't trust Commander Chakotay and Harry to get the _Flyer_ back in time to catch the next data stream transmission. They're taking the _Sacajawea_ on their mission."  
  
Icheb smiled. The data stream transmissions had become something he looked forward to as well. "You can't blame her. She expects to have special news to send home this time."  
  
"Uh-huh. Hmmm. Going in the _Sacajawea_ isn't so bad. Traveling to the work site will be a tight squeeze."  
  
Icheb could almost hear her grin. Vorik, Marla Gilmore, Naomi, and Icheb had all been assigned to work at the site of the _kolander_ ore deposits on the northern continent today.  
  
As he pulled on his cadet's tunic, he felt another pair of hands pulling the back down to his waist before slipping up his back and stroking his bare skin. Startled, Icheb turned and jumped back a step. Naomi was standing there, grinning up at him. He tried to be stern about her coming in unannounced, but he couldn't be too upset with her. "Naomi, you really shouldn't do that..." He couldn't finish his sentence, however. Naomi threw her arms around his neck, hugged him tightly, and kissed him on the lips until he was breathless.  
  
"Wouldn't you like to begin every day this way, Icheb?" she asked.  
  
He should have known she would turn the conversation in this direction. Lately, they seemed to talk about little else, to be honest. "I do not think your mother would approve, Naomi."  
  
"Oh, Icheb. You know very well what I mean. Mom will be okay about it once we set a date to marry. Prixin is coming. Day Seven would be a great night to make the announcement."  
  
"Naomi, I really would like to, but you're still so young. I don't think it's a good idea to make a commitment before you're ten, the..."  
  
"...the traditional Ktarian age of consent," she finished. "You always say that whenever we talk about getting engaged!"  
  
"I wouldn't say it if you didn't always bring it up." Icheb tried to keep the sharpness out of his voice, but he was not totally successful.  
  
"Icheb, don't be angry with me. I just want everything settled between us. We _are_ going to get married, you know. It's just a matter of time."  
  
Icheb didn't know what to say. He knew how he felt, but he also knew how most other people thought about someone as young as Naomi getting married--no matter how quickly the children of her father's race reached maturity. He resolved to discuss this with Tom. Somehow, although Tom joked around a lot, he helped Icheb understand serious or confusing subjects better after they'd had one of their "heart-to-heart" talks.  
  
Thinking about speaking with Tom helped him realize what he needed to say to the girl he truly did love. "There's no rush, Naomi. We've got plenty of time."  
  
*  
  
As his wife walked into Sickbay, Tom almost blurted out, "Hey, Babe, how are you feeling?" but thought better of it at the last moment. The last thing B'Elanna needed right now was anyone asking that particular question, even her husband. As it was, she usually bit his head off whenever he slipped and called her "Babe." Instead, he stopped after the "Hey"--the way he usually did.  
  
"Hey, yourself. Anything exciting on the agenda for today?"  
  
"Nothing much. Just covering Sickbay for a while. The Doc is playing golf."  
  
"Now, wait a minute! How's he managing that? The holodecks are still off line!"  
  
Tom shook his head. "Who needs a holodeck on a planet with gently rolling fields of grass with a few sand pits scattered here and there? All the Doc needed was his golf bag and a shovel to dig out a few holes. Nine, to be exact. In another week, he'll have the back nine ready to play. If we're here much longer, he'll be organizing tournaments--which he'll arrange to win, naturally."  
  
"Just great! I'm ready to deliver any minute and my doctor is out playing golf!"  
  
"No problem, B'Elanna. Even our poor, underpowered transporters can grab his mobile emitter to get him here at a moment's notice. Besides, I'm at your service. I can take care of almost any medical emergency, including the delivering of babies. You can count on me, Chief." As much as she hated most of his pet names, being reminded of her position on _Voyager_ never bothered B'Elanna. Tom couldn't quell the feeling of self-satisfaction that came over him as her slowly emerging grin confirmed how right he was about it. "And is my ambulance almost ready, by the way?"  
  
B'Elanna's grin froze. She looked at him blankly for a minute before she recognized the reference. "Soon," she said vaguely, flapping her hand a bit before using it to pat her swollen belly possessively.  
  
Tom had a hunch the _Delta Flyer_ would be fixed very soon--just as soon as Harry and Chakotay left on their mission to the four planets in this sector. He wouldn't have minded going on that trip. It would have been nice to function as a pilot again. He'd feel more in control of that situation, too. Childbirth might be a natural process, but it wasn't one with which he'd ever been so intimately involved before.  
  
None of the crew he'd spoken to was very happy about Harry and Chakotay going away again so soon. They hadn't returned from their imprisonment by the Gunruth'u all that long ago. At least Captain Janeway wasn't going along this time. Besides, Tom's place was definitely here right now, so close to B'Elanna's delivery date for their daughter. That made him realize why his wife had wandered in here when, by her own admission, she still had an engineering job to finish.  
  
"Not to complain about your granting me the pleasure of your company, Lieutenant Torres, but just why have you come to Sickbay? Do you miss me?"  
  
B'Elanna swung her considerable bulk onto one leg, one hand perched in the "Janeway position" on what had once been, and someday would be again, her waist -- while the other caressed her belly in a very uncaptain-like manner. "Well, I...um...I was just wondering if you could check me, to see if my cervix is effaced anymore. I was feeling a few...twinges...a little while ago. I don't want to go crawling around inside the _Flyer_ again unless I'm sure nothing is about to happen. With the baby, I mean."  
  
"Ah," he said noncommittally. When she was on duty, crawling about in the _Delta Flyer_ was one of her favorite things to do, second only to mucking about with _Voyager's_ engines -- a pastime which, regrettably, was denied her in her present condition. If Tom had any doubts about how desperately B'Elanna wanted her pregnancy to be over, tacitly admitting she'd rather go through labor than play with her engines would have dispelled them quite definitively.  
  
The whirling medical tricorder he waved before her told him its tale. Bracing himself, Tom said as brightly as he could muster, "Good news, B'Elanna. You're totally effaced."  
  
"And I'm starting to dilate more?" she asked, hopefully.  
  
"Well, no. Not really. You're still at 2.5 centimeters..." As the smile on her face drooped into a stormy frown, he added, "but you know how quickly these things can progress sometimes..."  
  
"... for humans and Klingons alike," she finished for him. "I know, I know! The Doctor says that every time I come in here. Now you're doing it, too!"  
  
"B'Elanna, what can I say? I'm just the guy who reads the tricorder. And I'm your husband. I want it to happen soon, too, believe me!"  
  
B'Elanna sighed, almost reluctantly, "I know."  
  
"Why don't you go keep yourself busy on the _Flyer_? Fix that navigational array for me. I'll be there to help you as soon as the Doc gets back, I promise. Okay?"  
  
"It's a good thing I love you so much, you know that, don't you, Flyboy? You're the one that did this to me! I've been known to cut the hearts out of people who've caused me less trouble."  
  
"That's my B'Elanna! Almost back to normal! And you _will_ be totally back to normal very soon, I promise you -- just with one little change. You'll be a mother as well as a chief engineer then."  
  
Puckering up for a quick kiss, Tom was surprised by the way she threw her arms around his neck in a great big bear hug. Carefully moving his body to one side so he could get as close as possible to his wife while his daughter clung stubbornly to the gestational stage, _Voyager's_ chief pilot and primary field medic/doctor's assistant provided the only comfort he could to his less-than-patient patient.  
  
_'It will be over sooner than you think,'_ he told himself fervently.  
  
His wife wasn't the only one who needed that sort of comforting.  
  
  
  



	4. Act 2

****Act 2  
  
As Naomi had said, it was a tight squeeze for those riding to the northern continent in the _Sacajawea_. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't one of those being squeezed.  
  
As Naomi was about to step into the hatch of the shuttle, Commander Tuvok appeared and summoned her for her first formal instructional session since his return to _Voyager,_ after the rescue of Captain Janeway, Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Kim from the Gunruth'u. From Naomi's rigid expression and the stiff way she held herself, Icheb could see how upset and angry she was over this sudden change of assignment; but wisely, she controlled herself. Had she lost her temper, she would not have been allowed to go on the survey mission anyway. Starfleet cadets were expected to obey orders, even if they were attending informal classes thousands of light years away from the San Francisco campus. Icheb suspected _Voyager's_ tactical/security officer and former Academy instructor's primary lesson on this day might be the need to follow the orders of superior officers, even when they superseded another, more favored assignment.   
  
As a result, Icheb was squatting on the floor behind the _Sacajawea's_ pilot's seat next to Naomi's replacement, Billy Telfer, and facing the bench on which Lieutenant Harry Kim sat with Acting Ensign Marla Gilmore. That was also unexpected. Although Harry would still travel with Commander Chakotay on the diplomatic mission, after they dropped off Icheb's team at the work site, Vorik was sitting in the co-pilot's seat next to Commander Chakotay, who was piloting the small craft northward.   
  
The shuttle had barely become airborne before the first officer insisted upon taking over the helm from Harry. Summoning Ensign Vorik to be his temporary co-pilot, Chakotay sent Harry to sit with Marla, saying, "You'll be away from each other for several days, Harry. Take advantage of a little together time before then."  
  
Everyone on board _Voyager_ knew that Marla and Harry were "an item," as the Delaney sisters put it. Icheb wasn't sure if they were a couple in all ways--especially in the way Naomi wished to be with Icheb--but it wasn't difficult to see that Marla was extremely unhappy about another separation from Lieutenant Kim so soon after his return from Gunruth'u imprisonment. There were no public displays of affection between them, of course -- not while they were on duty. The two young officers sat next to each other with only their shoulders and hips touching, quietly speaking about their respective assignments. On the surface, they were simply two colleagues whiling away the time until they would each go their separate ways.   
  
Beneath the surface, however, Icheb knew Marla was very distressed. The redness of her eyes indicated she had cried recently. On several occasions, a seemingly innocuous phrase from Harry made her look suddenly away, or reply to him with a catch in her voice. As recent events had made abundantly clear, no diplomatic mission in this sector of space could safely be called "no big deal" or "routine." On the other hand, the comment, "when we get back to Earth," which seemed to be a relatively innocuous comment to Icheb, caused a very strong reaction on Marla's part. She quickly turned her head to face the back end of the shuttle, but not quickly enough to disguise the fact that she was weeping again. Icheb decided he would ask Tom about this after his team returned to _Voyager_.  
  
Thinking about talking with Tom brought another conversation to mind -- about Commander Chakotay's safety record when it came to piloting shuttles. The first officer had crashed the _Sacajawea_ on at least one occasion previously, although obviously, it hadn't been wrecked beyond repair. Icheb wondered if the commander had deliberately waited until he was out of the captain's sight to assume the pilot's chair, just so she wouldn't worry about him. When a sudden bump of air turbulence bounced the top of Icheb's head against the control panel behind him, he wished he knew less about the commander's piloting record. Was Marla so upset because she was afraid the commander, and not Harry, would be the _Sacajawea's_ primary pilot during this diplomatic mission?  
  
Since Icheb was unable to see anything but clouds rushing by the viewports, he felt even more out of control of this situation than he usually did when he was a shuttle passenger. If Tom were the pilot, he might have given Icheb a quick turn at the controls, as Tom used routine flights like this to instruct the cadet about possible problems during flights and ways to counter them. Tom was a good teacher as well as a good friend. The letters from Admiral and Mrs. Paris meant a lot to Icheb, and even more when he learned their son had been the one to inform his parents that Icheb never received any mail from the Alpha Quadrant on Datastream Day. Icheb didn't know if he could ever fully express his gratitude to the entire Paris family. He hoped he would have an opportunity to do that one day, though.   
  
At last the small craft swung about, and Icheb caught a glimpse of gleaming white mountains reflected in a mirror of sunlit water. They must be arriving at Tall Girl Mountain, the cheeky name Tom had given it during the first survey mission. The peak was certainly tall, although Tom's name -- which had stuck -- had more to do with the fact that a pair of foothills at its base had an undeniably "busty" look, as Tom had explained to Icheb after the survey team's return.   
  
B'Elanna's acerbic "You see busty girls in everything, don't you, Paris?" when he'd told her about it initially confused Icheb. Was she really angry with Tom? When the two began to laugh and walked off arm-in-arm, however, Icheb noticed how comfortable they were with each other. As much as he loved Naomi, Icheb couldn't say they'd reached that degree of understanding and acceptance as of yet. Did it simply take more time to develop, or was Ensign Wildman actually right about her daughter and Icheb? Perhaps they _weren't_ ready to commit the rest of their lives to each other. Spending a few days together, as they'd expected when they'd both been assigned to the trip, would have been nice. He'd looked forward to camping out and working with her as part of the same team, mapping _kolander_ ore deposits and planning a camp for mining operations, which could be set up as soon as Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Kim returned with permission from the Treaty World leadership to remove a quantity of the ore.  
  
After the shuttle touched down safely, Icheb expelled a long sigh of relief. He helped Billy Telfer get to his feet just in time to avoid being stepped upon by Vorik, who almost leaped out of the co-pilot's seat. Marla was already standing, courtesy of Lieutenant Kim. They gazed at each other for several seconds without letting go of each other's hands before Icheb heard Marla whisper, "Take care, Lieutenant," and Harry's hushed, "Likewise, Ensign."  
  
*  
  
Marla was miserable. How _could_ they send Harry off again so soon, after what happened the last time? And with Chakotay? That wasn't the best of omens for a mission to ask permission to radically change the agreement through which _Voyager's_ crew had been allowed to remain on New Hope. That agreement had expressly forbidden _Voyager's_ crew from conducting mining operations. Just because the four worlds controlling what they referred to as the "Treaty World" might have no clue concerning the true value of _kolander_ , it didn't follow they would allow it to be taken out of the soil of New Hope.  
  
At least she'd had those forty minutes chatting with Harry on the ride north, thanks to the commander's unexpected gesture in taking the helm. She wished Harry was spending the next few days with her at Tall Girl Mountain, or if he'd be available to pick them up in the _Delta Flyer_ \-- or even the _Copernicus_ \-- once they'd decided upon a location for the mining base camp. But no, Harry was going to be gone for at least the next four days. Someone else would retrieve the team.  
  
The only good thing about Harry's _not_ staying with her was that she wouldn't have to face The Question again. Harry had been very considerate of her reluctance to become intimately involved: he only asked her once a day if she'd changed her mind. It was her own fault. If she simply refused to see him socially any more, he was too much of a gentleman to press her any further. By maintaining their close friendship, she kept his hope for something more alive.   
  
Truthfully, she wasn't sure she wanted to refuse him any longer. Actually, she never _had_ wanted to refuse him; but for his own good, she must. If Harry Kim was reduced to choosing between his Starfleet career and virtually anything else, she was certain his career would win. Becoming involved with one of the infamous _Equinox_ Five --or soon-to-be-infamous _Equinox_ Five, once they returned to the Alpha Quadrant -- would be fatal to Harry's hopes for a successful Starfleet career. She didn't want to force him to make that choice. Staying "just friends" was the best way. Really.   
  
Now, if she could only convince _herself_ she was doing the right thing...  
  
After Harry helped her out of her seat, they only had time for a few whispered words before they were caught up in unloading the survey team's supplies from the cargo compartments. Minutes later, the shuttle had lifted off and was sailing above their heads into space, while the team was preparing to hike into the valley, where they would face the tedious, unglamorous task of laying out a base camp and planning a mining operation which would cause as little damage to the surrounding environment as possible.  
  
Marla shook herself free from her concern for Harry's safety long enough to notice Icheb's forlorn gaze. She remembered then that Icheb had been expecting to spend the next few days with Naomi. _Poor kid,_ Marla thought. He was finding out pretty quickly that not every job in Starfleet was as exciting as piloting a starship or mapping a new star system in Astrometrics. Some jobs had to be done, so they were. Simple as that.   
  
Even boring jobs could be rewarding, however -- not the least of which was that boring was usually safe. She'd learned that the hard way, thanks to her time on the _Equinox_. She'd absorbed another lesson on that ill-fated ship which had been affirmed, far more happily, during her time on _Voyager_ : the value of working together and supporting each other through hard times. Once again, it was time to put that particular lesson into practice. Since Marla had been placed in charge of the work crew, she had the means to do it.  
  
"Vorik, Telfer, buddy up," Marla called out. "Icheb, you're with me. Let's see how fast we can get camp set up so we can have a little fun. I'm in the mood for a hike in the wilderness! How about you, Cadet?"  
  
As Icheb's shy smile appeared, she knew she had said the right thing.  
  
*  
  
"What's the matter, Cadet? Missing your partner in crime?" teased Joe Carey as he passed behind Naomi Wildman. She sniffed deeply in disgust as she pulled out another gelpack to examine it for injury, then smiled ruefully.  
  
"Maybe I'm sorry the only climbing I'm going to be doing this afternoon is through a Jefferies tube instead of up a cliff."  
  
"Can't have exciting adventures all the time. Sometimes you just have to roll up your sleeves and do the dirty work."  
  
"I guess so. These gelpacks aren't just dirty, though. They're icky!" As she reverted to the childish term, Naomi wrinkled her nose in distaste. The packs they were working on in this particular area were certainly "icky," as in "sticky," for many of their number in the lowest two decks of the ship had developed small ruptures when the ship crashed. None had been completely destroyed. The self-sealing skin system had prevented the loss of most of the viscous fluid within, despite the way they'd been abused by the crash. The fluid which had leaked out, however, had attracted particles of dirt, dust, inorganic debris, as well as microorganisms of assorted types. Between the way they felt and how they smelled, the term "icky" described them pretty well.  
  
Because the ship depended upon gelpacks to be in working order if it was ever going to rise again from New Hope, reconditioning them was not an option; it was a grave necessity. Somebody had to do it. And today, one of those somebodies was Naomi Wildman, Freshman Cadet of Starfleet Academy (Distant Learners Program). For a day that had begun with the promise of adventuring on the northern continent, the way it had actually gone was depressing, to say the least.  
  
Still, she was obtaining credits in Starship Maintenance as well as in Elementary Bioneural Circuitry Mechanics by cleaning up the mess from the crash. She checked each gelpack for damage, cleaned the surfaces of those which were intact, and injected them with an antibacterial agent to recondition the fluid interior before inserting back into place. Any that showed signs of a weakened area in its skin, or if it needed more care than a simple injection, were packed into portable stasis chambers, to be brought to Engineering or Sickbay for a more thorough overhaul. It was boring work, but vital to the ship and a necessary step for everyone to get home. Everyone on _Voyager_ wanted to get home, right?  
  
_Well, not exactly,_ Naomi thought, glancing over at James Morrow, who was carrying one of the stasis chambers to the exit hatch to take it to Sickbay. It was no secret the survivors of the _Equinox_ weren't particularly eager to get back to the Alpha Quadrant. Some of the Maquis, it was rumored, were also cool to the idea of returning there, unsure of their reception. It had been especially galling to learn that the Cardassians, after causing the death and destruction of entire colonies and billions of lives, were now receiving assistance from the Federation to rebuild their home planet.  
  
Naomi doubted anything bad would happen to any of them when they got home. And it would be good to finally meet her dad. Her mom had done her best to make him real to Naomi, despite the fact he was so far away, by telling her stories about their courtship and early years together. His letters from the datastream helped, too. But Naomi still found it difficult to visualize him in any pose other than the holographic images her mother shared with her. She missed not knowing what his laugh sounded like, or if the shaving lotion he used had a pleasant odor or smelled a little too strong. There was so much more she needed to know about him, things she could only find out when they finally met. Still, Naomi looked forward to introducing him to Icheb, even if his knowledge of her father wasn't much less than her own.   
  
How great would it be to have her entire family together in one room? But that wouldn't happen without a major loss. All of these wonderful people working around her right now -- Joe Carey, Neelix, Sarexa, Celes, Tabor, Murphy, Sue Nicoletti -- they would scatter not just to the four winds, but to interstellar winds. They were family, too, and she would miss them as much as, and maybe more, than she missed her father right now. After all, she knew them so well. She didn't really know her dad.   
  
At least by having Icheb at her side as her husband -- or fiancé, if her parents insisted upon an old-fashioned, traditional five-year long engagement (more like five-long-years engagement, Naomi thought) -- she wouldn't lose him. She couldn't bear to think about life without Icheb. There was no point in waiting around to get married when she knew she'd always love him and that he would always love her. He was the faithful type; she could tell.  
  
After returning the now-healthier and soon-to-be perfectly healed gelpack to its place in the circuitry, Naomi moved down the line to the next one waiting for its touch up. Before removing the gelpack from the circuit, she carefully wiped her gloved hands clean with a special hygienic towelette developed by the Doctor, to avoid any chance of cross-contamination from one gelpack to another. Discarding the towelette in the waste receptacle wrapped around her waist, Naomi followed procedure and pulled out her tricorder to take a thorough scan of it before making any attempt at repair.   
  
This gelpack had suffered a greater degree of damage than most of the previous ones she'd checked. Before this, she'd only need to pack one of them in stasis for a trip to Sickbay. This poor thing had lost almost half its fluid, although it also had healed itself to a greater degree than the others. Since it had had been housed in a more protected place within the walls of the Jefferies tube, it hadn't become quite as dirty or fouled by microorganisms as most. Perhaps this one didn't need to go to Sickbay. The team in Engineering might be able to restore the lost fluid without the Doctor's intervention. Naomi decided to clean up the gelpack before making a final decision about whether or not it needed further treatment, and if so, where it should receive it.  
  
Setting her tricorder down on the floor before her, Naomi removed the gelpack from its circuit. The tricorder's telltale panel was within the range of her peripheral vision as she worked. That was why she had more warning than the others of what was going on above her, on Deck 12. An anomalous reading, chronicling the precipitous rise of theta radiation in the Jefferies tube, caught her attention.   
  
For a split second she wasn't sure what to do. Then instinct took over. She couldn't abandon the little gelpack to being washed with theta radiation, especially when it was outside of the protection of its circuitry housing. Cradling the gelpack to her like a little baby, Naomi stepped over to the portable stasis chamber and quickly slipped it inside. As soon as the chamber began to hum, Naomi grabbed it in one hand and jumped up the ladder, even as the echoes of her shipmates' voices echoed down the shaft.   
  
_"Emergency! Radiation leak! All personnel vacate Decks 11, 12 and 13! Radiation leak! All personnel..."  
_  
*  
  
A hemisphere away, at almost exactly the same time, Acting Ensign Marla Gilmore and her companion, Cadet Icheb, were crossing the valley where the narrow path wound around a deep gorge, forcing them to tiptoe along the edge in single file. A sudden, sharp tremor rocked the ground, cracking away the path from beneath their feet. To Icheb, time suddenly fractured into such tiny segments, he experienced every second as if it were a minute. As he began to slide down the side of the gorge, he managed to catch hold of a protruding root, avoiding a hard tumble down the side of the cliff.   
  
Seconds later, although clods of dirt continued to rain down upon his head, he opened his eyes to look for Marla. To his horror, he could see her sprawled ten meters below, half-covered with debris, lying totally still.   
  
While a fall like this could cause serious injury to anyone, for Marla, it could be far worse. Only a few months before, she'd recovered from a head injury that had left her comatose and near death for days. Icheb had helped develop the therapy that saved her life and her mental capacities. Icheb remembered what the Doctor had said to Marla, in Icheb's presence, when he discharged her from Sickbay. "You must be hyperaware and diligent to avoid further injuries to the head if at all possible, Ms. Gilmore. Despite your recovery, you will be more vulnerable to serious concussions in the future."  
  
Without thinking of his own safety, Icheb released his hold upon the root and slid on his stomach the rest of the way down the gorge. When he hit bottom he twisted his left ankle, but he quickly discovered he was otherwise unhurt. Bending over Marla, he checked her condition. Marla was alive, but her pulse was weak. She seemed to be barely breathing. He was sure she had sustained a concussion.   
  
Hitting his comm badge, Icheb tried to contact Vorik and Telfer. Neither replied, even though the bandwidth of the message should have been sufficient to easily reach them. The _kolander_ -laden dust floating in the air around him might hamper communications by comm badge, he realized, especially if, as planned, they'd gone underground to map their end of the valley. At least Icheb hoped that was all that had happened. He didn't want to think of what even a mild earthquake could do to anyone unlucky enough to be caught inside a cave system when it struck.  
  
Hitting his comm badge again, and in as steady a voice as he could manage, Icheb called out, "Mayday, mayday! _Voyager_ , this is Cadet Icheb. Ensign Gilmore is injured. She's been knocked unconscious from a fall. Request immediate medical assistance."  
  
For several agonizing seconds Icheb waited for a reply. He was about to hit his comm badge again when a crackling response erupted from his communicator.  
  
_"Icheb, this is Lieutenant Torres. I'm in the Delta Flyer. Your signal is very weak. Do you read me?"  
_  
"Yes, Lieutenant," Icheb said, intensely relieved. "Marla needs help."  
  
_"I just contacted Sickbay. The Doctor ordered Tom and me to assist you. We'll be on our way as soon as Tom can get here. Sit tight. We'll be there in..."  
_  
The whine of the transporter drowned out whatever else she said, but Tom's voice finished for her: _"We'll be there in about thirty minutes. Hold on, Icheb. We're coming."_  
  



	5. Act 3

****Act 3  
  
As Captain Janeway hurried out of the turbolift and onto Deck 10, she had to sidestep several people who were lying in the corridor. Medical triage had been set up there for the crew. Some of them were still spilling out of the Jefferies tubes leading from the lower five decks of _Voyager_. Although no one seemed to be in grave danger, she looked for her EMH to confirm her impression. She finally saw him silhouetted against a doorway, kneeling next to Joe Carey, who was cradling his arm.  
  
"Doctor! Report!" she ordered as she approached them.  
  
The EMH answered her without looking up from his examination of Lieutenant Carey. "No serious injuries, Captain. Ensign Wildman and I have things under control."  
  
"Tom and B'Elanna are safely out of the way?"  
  
"Yes. I sent them north to help Ensign Gilmore."  
  
She nodded. "A good decision -- worthy of the Emergency Command Hologram himself." The Doctor, sparing a quick glance for his captain, smiled briefly. Although the EMH's initial contact had been somewhat garbled, thanks to two separate medical emergencies occurring almost simultaneously, she had almost immediately grasped that B'Elanna Torres, for the safety of her yet unborn child, had to be where she would encounter the least exposure to dangerous radiation. Despite some risk from radiation that was inherent in _kolander_ ore, theta radiation posed a far more serious threat to the child. Kathryn had agreed completely with his suggestion they send B'Elanna as far away from the temptation to run to her beloved Engineering, when it was in crisis, for a mission of mercy concerning one of B'Elanna's staff.  
  
"What happened, Lieutenant Carey?" she asked.  
  
"Not certain, Captain," Joe Carey said, coughing. "It just seemed to come out of nowhere. None of the equipment we were using should have created any theta radiation. We haven't detected anything in this area of the planet known to cause it, either; but _something_ caused the external venting system to release theta radiation off the ship. And, since we're not in space, atmospheric pressure pushed the radiation inside _Voyager_ again."  
  
"We'll get to the bottom of it," the captain vowed. Turning to the Doctor, she said, "Since Lieutenant Paris isn't available, may I assist you and your staff?"  
  
"Thank you, Captain. I can use all the field medics I can get! If you'll administer 25 cc's of Anaprovaline to Mr. Carey, I'll check on Mr. Murphy's condition."  
  
"And Doctor..."  
  
"And I'll ask Mr. Murphy if he knows anything about what caused the radiation leak," the Doctor finished for her.  
  
She had a wonderful, well-trained crew -- no question of that.  
  
*  
  
Although Icheb's perception of time had been metronome-like ever since his initial contact with the Borg, he experienced the distortion of "minutes passing like hours" that he'd heard about from others while he waited for Tom and B'Elanna to arrive in the _Delta Flyer_. It seemed as if he'd been sitting here forever, trying to ignore the soreness of the twisted ankle he'd sustained when he'd slid down the side of the gorge to get to Marla, and watching her unconscious form.  
  
When Marla began to stir, he thought to use his tricorder to make sure none of her bones were broken, but that was as much as he could safely do in this situation. When her eyes fluttered open, he cautioned her, "Don't try to sit up, Ensign. You've been injured from a fall. You were knocked unconscious."  
  
"Ohhh," she groaned. "Is that why my head hurts so much? I feel like I'm going to be sick."  
  
At Marla's request, Icheb helped her onto her side, in case her nausea manifested itself in a spell of vomiting. Marla managed not to be sick, but she wasn't very coherent, either. Icheb vaguely remembered advice about keeping those with a head injury awake by talking to them, so he told her, "I haven't heard from Ensign Vorik and Crewman Telfer since the earthquake."  
  
"Is that what happened? An earthquake? I don't remember anything but walking along the path and then waking up here. We've got to go find them!"  
  
When she started to get up, Icheb pushed her down again. "Ensign, we don't know how seriously you have been injured. You were knocked out. As soon as Lieutenants Paris and Torres get here, I'll go look for Vorik and Telfer."  
  
Marla started to object, but she was interrupted by the sound of a shuttle's approach. Seconds later, the tingle of the transporter heralded the whisking of Marla and Icheb onto the floor of the _Delta Flyer's_ lower deck.  
  
Simultaneously, it seemed, Tom Paris was standing over them, moving his medical tricorder systematically over Marla and studying the results. "What's your name?" he asked her.  
  
"Marla Gilmore."  
  
"What day is it?"  
  
"Monday...Stardate...I forget. Wait. It's 54947 something...I don't know what the rest of the date is."  
  
"Close enough, since you've been out cold for a while," Tom said, with a grin. "What's your rank and your ship?"  
  
"Ensign...Acting Ensign of the _USS Voyager."_  
  
"Very good. Now, count out loud from one to one hundred, and keep your eyes on the probe wherever I move it."  
  
Obediently, Marla began to count while Tom moved the probe from one side of her head to the other and then back again. She'd reached fifteen when Tom said, "That's enough counting, Marla. Your field of vision and your pupil response look okay. How many fingers?" Tom asked as he waved his hand in front of her. When Marla gave the correct answer, Tom said to Icheb, "Help me get her onto the biobed."  
  
"I'm fine, really. I don't need any help," Marla murmured, struggling against their attempt to lift her onto the biobed.  
  
"Really?" Tom replied. "With readings like I'm getting, I'd say you must have a crushing headache, at the very least."  
  
"She was complaining of nausea just before you beamed us aboard, Lieutenant Paris," Icheb added.  
  
"Tattletale," Marla muttered resignedly, then continued, with some effort, "We have to find out what happened to Vorik and Telfer, Tom. We haven't heard from them since the quake."  
  
"Icheb can send a message from the comm station down here, if you like, so you can 'supervise,' but I need to examine you thoroughly, Marla. I think it's pretty clear that you have a concussion. I guess it could have been worse, considering you're so vulnerable after your last injury. Maybe if you weren't, you'd have escaped getting one this time; but you _are_ vulnerable, and you did. I think you're going to be fine, but Doc'll skin me alive if I don't give you a full scan. And then, of course, he'll have to give you his own personal, more-thorough-than-Starfleet-Medical neural examination once we're back on _Voyager_ anyway, because you know he won't trust my findings! You know how he gets. But I really won't feel right until I've made sure you don't have a blood clot lurking inside your brain, ready to cause big trouble, okay?"   
  
Marla closed her eyes and massaged her forehead. "Okay, I give in. You're right about the headache, and my stomach _is_ doing flip-flops." She accepted Tom and Icheb's assistance and allowed herself to be lifted onto the _Delta Flyer's_ biobed.  
  
Several quiet minutes passed while Tom ran scans on Marla and Icheb attempted to raise Vorik and Telfer at the comm station. The medical scans went better than the search for the missing crewmen. Eventually, they called B'Elanna down to help. As she clumsily waddled down the steps from the upper level, she said "Don't worry, I parked the _Flyer_ in geosynchronous orbit. We're right above the mining site."  
  
"Thanks, B'Elanna. You didn't have to come down. You could have remained on the flight deck to...are you all right?" Tom asked, noting her stiff walk and the grimace that came over her face as she approached the biobed.  
  
"I'm fine," she responded brusquely, although the exaggerated way she clutched her lower back suggested otherwise. Tom, Icheb, and even Marla stared at her incredulously. "Don't you all have something better to do than stare at me like that?" Her voice became more waspish with every word, and Icheb exchanged worried glances with Tom.  
  
"Lieutenant, are you sure you're all right?" Icheb asked. "You are so close to delivery..."  
  
"Back off, all of you!" B'Elanna snarled, as she stalked towards the banks of instruments next to where Icheb was working. "Have any of you thought to look for a Vulcan and a human using our sensors? I didn't think so."  
  
"Hmmm," was all Tom said, who pointed his medical tricorder in his wife's direction as soon as her back was turned.  
  
Icheb moved closer to Tom and, making sure he was facing well away from B'Elanna, whispered, "How soon will we be leaving for _Voyager_?"  
  
"Not until we know Vorik and Billy are all right -- and we also need to get an 'all clear' from the Doctor. There was a radiation leak just before we left. We have to stay away from _Voyager_ until they've got it under control, for the baby's sake." Tom stared at the tricorder's readings for a moment, and then added nonchalantly, "By the way, B'Elanna, seven centimeters."  
  
She exhaled suddenly and looked back at Tom. They exchanged nods and then went back to their respective duties: Tom, adjusting the biobed controls to set up another neural scan of Marla, while B'Elanna sat down heavily in front of the sensors and set up a sweep for Vulcan life signs.  
  
Icheb took it upon himself to continue switching frequencies, trying to find one that would cut through the large amounts of _kolander_ dust lingering in the area. He surmised it had been dispersed into the air by the earthquake via several small landslides, not unlike the one that had tossed Marla into the gorge. As the powder was so fine, it could hover in the air for a very long time. He marked the densest clouds in the sensor logs as locations to explore more fully. Veins of the ore might be close to the surface in those areas. If so, it would be easier to remove from those spots, and possibly easier to restore those areas to their natural state after they'd removed the ore. Since there was quite a bit of ore already on the surface from the talus slope along one side of the gorge, the crew might not need to go into the caves they had originally intended to mine. With such unstable ground, it would be much safer that way, too.  
  
As he worked, Icheb pondered the fact that neither of the women looked very well. Marla was pale and seemed on the verge of going to sleep. Tom kept chatting with her, forcing her to respond. Lieutenant Torres grasped her abdomen at one point and stared so grimly at him that Icheb became a little nervous before he realized she wasn't looking at him, but through him. The EMH had had Icheb read about Klingon labors as part of his course of study in field medicine. Icheb was glad he had done so. He wondered if he would be able to handle any broken bones anyone might sustain if the baby were to come now, while only the four of them were in the _Delta Flyer_.  
  
Then another thought hit him. "Lieutenant, was Naomi in Engineering when the radiation leak occurred?"  
  
"I think so," Tom answered. "But don't worry. I don't believe there were any serious injuries."  
  
Icheb tried not to worry about Naomi, but he couldn't help it.  
  
Under normal circumstances, Icheb would volunteer to go back down to the surface and enter the cave system that Vorik and Telfer had intended to explore, to see if he could find them. He didn't even bother to ask. He knew it wouldn't be permitted. There was no one available for him to "buddy up" with, for one thing. Neither B'Elanna nor Marla were in any condition for such an activity, and Tom needed to stay on the _Flyer_ to care for them both. Icheb resolved to find Vorik and Billy from the _Delta_ _Flyer_ instead _,_ because now he needed to get back to _Voyager_ to make sure Naomi was all right.  
  
*  
  
"Are you trying to say there _was_ no radiation leak, Tuvok?" Janeway asked, a dangerous glint in her eye.  
  
"No, I am not. There was a radiation leak, but it was far less dangerous than our instruments had indicated. Under normal circumstances, such a small leak from the environmental control system is vented harmlessly into space. We are not in space, however; and because of the crash, the sensors for that system did not automatically recalibrate, as they normally would. The force of debris which struck the gauge did not help matters. A very small amount of theta radiation, therefore, was perceived to be a far more serious leak, as it would be if it were at the same level while the ship was traveling in space. As the dust in the atmosphere reflected radiation back into the ship, venting was not accomplished in as efficient a manner as normal, and..."  
  
"Thank you, Commander, I think I can surmise the rest. But what exploded to cause our 'very small leak' of theta radiation?"  
  
The Vulcan turned to one of the two people standing next to him. "I believe Mr. Neelix can explain that chain of events more ably than I."  
  
"Well?" Kathryn turned her laser glare upon the fidgeting Talaxian.  
  
"Captain, I don't understand it. I've made Stavorian Delight Cordial every year for Prixin. You know, it's one of your favorites! Such a lovely chartreuse color, and the bouquet is simply..." Noting the impatient gleam in the captain's eye, he quickly returned to the main point. "Um, well, this is the first time a container has ever exploded on me like this. The crash must have damaged the cask."  
  
"I can't believe you've been making Stavorian Delight on board a ship, Neelix," Sarexa scolded. "The gases build up to extremely high levels when it ferments! On Talax, Captain, it's made in reinforced titanium casks and in specially designed cellars!"  
  
Neelix sputtered, "I make it on board _Voyager_ every year! It's never caused a radiation leak before!"

"Mr. Neelix, do you mean to say you have been serving the crew of _Voyager_ a beverage which is radioactive?" As Tuvok made this accusation, his left eye brow came as close to meeting his hairline as Kathryn had ever seen it go.  
  
"Oh, no, no. Stavorian Delight Cordial isn't radioactive when I serve it. In fact, I don't believe it ever emits any _actual_ radiation at all. For some reason, radiation detectors sometimes give off an alarm...occasionally."  
  
"Which is exactly why it's made in specially designed cellars on Talax," Sarexa sniffed.  
  
The captain raised her eyes to the ceiling, the same direction her tactical officer's left eyebrow had ascended. "Now that we know the fermentation _can_ cause a radiation leak -- or something that mimics one, at the very least -- you'll have to be more careful when you make it in the future. If you're going to continue making it -- and I agree, it's become a tradition -- you must find a way to do it safely. But please, _don't_ store the container near any vital systems, Mr. Neelix!"  
  
"Of course, Captain." Although briefly chastened, Neelix's countenance brightened as he mused, "Now that Icheb has his own quarters, I might be able to store it in Cargo Bay Two again! I'll move the other container there immediately."  
  
"Where is the 'other container' located now, Mr. Neelix?" Tuvok asked severely.  
  
"In my quarters," Neelix admitted.  
  
"Under normal conditions in space, I believe that location would suffice. It is far enough away from any vital systems not to pose a grave danger to the ship. It might be prudent, however, to move the remaining canister off the ship entirely while we are still in the process of making extensive repairs," Tuvok suggested.  
  
"Good idea!" Neelix enthused.  
  
"Excellent idea, Commander. Mr. Neelix, please see to it. Immediately. Dismissed."  
  
Neelix, followed closely by Sarexa, exited the ready room.  
  
"I will make sure the container is moved far away from the ship, Captain."  
  
"Thank you, Tuvok. And by the way, while we're on the subject of safety and fermentation, now might be a good time to move that still to a safer place."  
  
"Captain?" Tuvok raised an eyebrow quizzically.  
  
"You know, the 'non-existent' Maquis still in Engineering. I'd prefer not to risk sustaining any more damage from fermentation gone awry at the moment. We have quite a long list of repairs to complete as it is."  
  
"I shall inform the responsible parties." Tuvok nodded gravely. "Now that we have confirmed there is no further danger, I will reinitiate gelpack cleanup procedures on Decks 11 through 15. I will also assign another detail to make sure the environmental control system is repaired promptly, and I will alert the repair crew to pay special attention to adjusting the automatic detection devices to allow for the fact _Voyager_ is currently surrounded by an atmosphere. Will there be anything else, Captain? Shall I contact the Doctor and check on our casualties?"  
  
"No, thank you, Tuvok. I'll do that myself. Dismissed."  
  
After the Vulcan exited, Kathryn collapsed into her desk chair, rubbing her forehead to forestall the headache she could feel brewing behind the bone. Seconds later, her comm badge beeped. It was the EMH.  
  
"I was just going to contact you, Doctor. I found out that a lot less theta radiation was released than first was estimated. Virtually nil, in fact."  
  
_"I conjectured that, Captain, from the nature of the injuries sustained by the crew. The most serious was Mr. Carey's broken wrist, sustained by a fall from a ladder. It detached from the wall of the Jefferies tube while he was ascending to an upper level. Other personnel suffered bumps and bruises, but no one needed to be treated for radiation exposure. I was going to contact Mr. Paris, to let him know it will be safe to bring Ms. Torres back to_ Voyager _whenever he wishes."_  
  
"Please, Doctor. And let me know if there's any more news on Mr. Vorik and Mr. Telfer, or about Ensign Gilmore's condition."  
__  
_"I will, Captain. EMH out."_  
  
Seconds later, she was paged again, causing her to mutter under her breath about never getting a spare minute to gather her thoughts before having to respond to the next crisis.  
  
_"Ayala to Captain Janeway...Commander Chakotay is reporting in, Captain."_  
  
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Kathryn replied, brightening as her headache quickly receded.  
  
"Commander, any crises to report?"  
  
_"None. Should I have?"_  
  
"On a day as bizarre as this one has been, you'll be one of the few who don't..." As she proceeded to bring him up to speed on the day's events, Kathryn decided that having the opportunity to share them with her first officer was one of the best headache remedies she'd ever tried.  
  



	6. Act 4

  
**Act 4**  
  
_"EMH to_ Delta Flyer _. Please report on Ensign Gilmore's condition."_  
  
"Marla has a concussion," Tom responded. "I'm keeping a close eye on her. And Icheb sprained his ankle. I haven't had a chance to treat it yet, but he'll be fine. I couldn't find anything else wrong with either of them. How are things back there? Is the radiation leak contained?"  
  
_"Ah, the radiation leak! As it turned out, it was not nearly as bad as we initially feared. It was caused by one of Mr. Neelix's traditional dietary delights for Prixin."_  
  
"Excuse me? Neelix is serving something that's _radioactive_ for Prixin?" Tom said, disbelief evident in his voice.  
  
_"Not really. It's a long story for another time. Suffice it to say that you can return to_ Voyager _any time you wish. It's safe for B'Elanna and the baby now, and I wish to examine Marla myself. No offense, Mr. Paris."_  
__  
B'Elanna caught Tom's torn expression as he replied, "None taken. It's good to know we can return when we want to, Doc, but we haven't been able to raise Vorik or Telfer yet. We need to complete a few more sensor sweeps and find them before we can leave."  
  
_"I understand completely. I'll speak to the captain about sending another shuttle to search for them so you can bring my patients back to_ Voyager _...unless you want to ask her for assistance yourself, of course..."_  
  
"I'm not a patient! I'm an expectant mother," B'Elanna growled, in what she thought was an extremely quiet voice. Tom clearly heard her, however. He glared in her direction and made a slicing gesture with his thumb, from one side of his throat to the other, one of his clever little signs to tell her not to say anything more. B'Elanna wanted to make a cutting remark back to him, but a sudden contraction stilled the urge.  
  
"Please, Doc. If the captain can send another shuttle with Trish or Sam aboard, I wouldn't mind returning. I don't feel right leaving the area right now, just in case Vorik or Telfer needs medical assistance."  
  
_"I'll speak to her immediately. Come back soon! I'm sure little Miral will be making her appearance very shortly now."_  
  
"Wait," Icheb interrupted. "Before you sign off, is Naomi all right? She wasn't affected by the radiation, was she?"  
  
_"She's perfectly fine, Icheb. As for the radiation scare, I'll let you know all about it when you get back, although I doubt I'll need to. I'm sure everyone will want to fill you in! It's quite a humorous story, actually...Don't huff like that, Mr. Paris. I'll contact the captain immediately, if not sooner. EMH out."_  
  
"The Doctor not seizing an opportunity to bend our ears about something -- now there's a first," Tom joked. B'Elanna tried to laugh but couldn't.  
  
This contraction was lasting a long time. A very long time. Her personal desires warred with her professionalism. As the chief engineer of _Voyager_ , technically on maternity leave though she might be, she needed to keep looking for her missing staff. As B'Elanna Torres, mother-to-be, she wanted to forget about looking for Vorik and Telfer and return to _Voyager_ so she could be examined by the Doctor.  
  
From the beginning of her pregnancy, B'Elanna had wondered if she would know when she was about to deliver her baby. She'd heard of women who had delivered a baby without knowing how long they'd been in labor. Now she knew it _could_ creep up on you, disguised as the sort of false contractions she'd been having off and on for many weeks, and, as the Doctor had informed her in his pedantic way, "exercising your womb for the rigors of childbirth." Ever since Tom told her she was dilated seven centimeters – out of a possible ten -- she'd known it was finally happening. She couldn't kid herself this wasn't really labor. Her baby was going to be born soon, and if they didn't get back to _Voyager_ quickly, it would happen here, on the _Delta Flyer_. The last thing she wanted was to have her daughter delivered out here in the wilderness. Her doctor was back on _Voyager!_ That's where she needed to be!  
  
She said nothing about this to Tom. Until that other shuttle arrived, it was their duty to search for Vorik and Telfer until they were found or reported in to the rest of their team. It was getting harder and harder for B'Elanna to concentrate on her sensors, however. Although every contraction took her breath away, she did her best to hide what was happening from her husband. The last thing he needed now was to worry about her while he was performing his duty as field medic for Marla Gilmore.  
  
As another wave of pain sliced through her abdomen, B'Elanna desperately gripped the console in front of her. She became aware of Icheb's voice speaking to someone nearby. No, not nearby, over the comm line -- two voices over the comm, with Tom's voice breaking in and another voice, a woman's voice, saying something, too.  
  
As the contraction released its hold upon B'Elanna, she realized that one of the voices she heard was Vorik's.  
  
_"... were trapped behind some rubble in the caves for an extended period, Lieutenant Paris. We used our phasers to break through the rocks."_  
  
B'Elanna saw Tom's eyes turn towards her, glinting with humor. "It's always good to have a gun in a rock fall, isn't it, B'Elanna?"  
  
Despite her discomfort, B'Elanna had to choke back a laugh at that comment. Trust Vorik to prompt that particular memory!  
  
_"It is, indeed, Lieutenant. It is helpful, also, to have a working tricorder and equipment at our campsite, which enabled us to devise a method to boost our signal through kolander ore dust. The substance interfered with our ability to contact you until now."_  
  
"It's good to know you're both all right. We were able to transport Marla and Icheb to the _Flyer_ through the dust. It may be worse where you are. Would you like to return to _Voyager_ with us?"  
__  
"No, Lieutenant Paris. The campsite area was not damaged. The rock substrata there is the most geologically stable in this region, and it is far enough away from the primary veins of kolander ore, which we now have identified. We should be safe enough to complete our main missions. We will implement our plan to begin mining operations and initiate the construction of base camp facilities while you return Ensign Gilmore and Cadet Icheb to Voyager _for treatment. If the captain sends another shuttle, I would advise that portable shield generators should be brought along as standard equipment for this site, along with pattern enhancers to improve transporter function in an emergency."_   
  
"Done, Ensign. We'll relay the good news to _Voyager_ that you're okay. I have a hunch the captain won't let you stay here too long, though. Complete the mining surveys and the logistical plan, but don't waste your time building any of the base camp. That can and should be postponed until Commander Chakotay receives permission for us to mine the ore. Why go through all that work until we're sure we'll be able to do it?"  
  
_"Agreed. In that case, we will complete an analysis of the actual volume and quality of all the loose kolander ore as soon as possible. Ensign Vorik out."_  
  
"Acknowledged. _Delta Flyer_ out." As the connection was audibly broken, Tom said, "That's good news! We can get underway now. B'Elanna, can you get up to...B'Elanna? _B'Elanna!"_  
  
This contraction squeezed her body so powerfully, she couldn't catch enough breath to say anything. The best B'Elanna could manage was a loud groan. With a terrible clarity, B'Elanna could sense a commotion around her, then felt Tom's arms as they encircled her, even though she was sure the way she was gripping him would snap his wrists any second. Those long, slender bones of his were deceptive, however. She was grateful that, once again, they were strong enough to stand up to all she could inflict upon them.  
  
"Icheb, get Marla up to the flight deck and fly us back to _Voyager_ as quickly as you can. And don't let Marla fall asleep. I need the biobed for B'Elanna now."  
  
"I'm...not...sick...Flyboy..." B'Elanna managed to gasp out.  
  
"Of course you aren't, but I need to check on our baby. You'll get up there on the biobed so I can monitor her position, won't you, Chief?"  
  
"Now that you...put it...that way...ahhh!"  
  
Tom's blue eyes, brimming with concern, swam into her sight, just as B'Elanna felt a splash of amniotic fluid erupt from her body. "Oh, Tom! Our baby...is going to be born...here!"  
  
"Looks like it," he agreed with a quick grin. "The Doctor is going to be furious with her."  
  
"He'll get over it," B'Elanna gasped, holding onto her husband as he slid her onto the just-vacated biobed. Her anchor. Her lover. The man who had believed in her when she wasn't herself; who'd reminded her that courage wasn't the absence of fear, but the willingness to act even when afraid; who had shared disaster and joy with her and taught her to laugh in the face of both.  
  
As she felt a force rip through her that would change their lives forever, B'Elanna was glad that Tom was there with her, whispering encouragingly in her ear, "Okay, Sweetheart. You're finally at ten centimeters! Bear down, B'Elanna. Push. C'mon, Baby, let's see our daughter's face..."  
  
*  
  
Icheb was glad he was supporting Marla as they walked up the stairs to the flight deck. For all her brave words, she seemed on the edge of collapse after every step. Once he'd settled her in the co-pilot's seat and strapped her in to make sure she wouldn't fall. Icheb ran a quick systems check before punching in the flight plan back to _Voyager_. Icheb wasn't surprised to see the navigational computer already set up for the return trip. While Tom was a very efficient field medic, when it came to piloting, he had no peer on _Voyager_. Icheb suspected he had few peers anywhere else, either.  
  
Once they were on their way, Icheb remembered Tom's instructions to make sure Marla didn't fall asleep. He called out her name just in time, at the very moment Marla's head was nodding onto her chest. Talk to her...but about what? Did it really matter?  
  
"Ensign Gilmore? Are you awake?"  
  
"More or less," she mumbled.  
  
That wasn't a promising subject for a conversation, he realized; she didn't elaborate. He thought about asking her to tell him about her years at Starfleet Academy, but he hesitated when he recalled the _Equinox_ crew didn't seem to like to speak about their past experiences much, not in the way the other members of the crew did. Even the Maquis, who sometimes had violent and sad stories to tell, would reminisce for hours about the happy times they'd experienced on their lost colonies. What could he say to her that would engage her attention?  
  
"Ensign Gilmore..."  
  
"Call me Marla."  
  
Icheb glanced over at her. "Marla, may I ask your advice about something?"  
  
Her head was slumped to one side. She blinked her eyes rapidly several times as if to clear her vision, but she answered, "Sure. Don't know if it's worth anything."  
  
"I am sure it will be. I've been dating Naomi Wildman...of course, you already know that. Am I babbling?"  
  
"That's okay. My head is babbling to me, too...when it isn't pounding like a drum," she admitted. "I probably won't remember much later, so ask me anything. Your secrets are safe with me."  
  
Icheb wasn't sure how much she would remember, but finally he decided it didn't matter. He just had to keep talking to her and, from what he'd seen downstairs, he had to keep her answering back so he would know she hadn't lost consciousness. "Have you ever talked with someone about getting married?"  
  
"Sort of. Harry talks about it to me...I don't, not much. I think."  
  
"Naomi talks about it all the time. She wants to get married, but I'm not sure if we should. Not yet. I love her, but there's a lot to being married. It can mean having a baby, like Lieutenant Torres and Lieutenant Paris are. I'm not ready for that yet. Ensign Wildman thinks we aren't ready, either. Naomi is very young, no matter what she thinks, and I am, too. Neither of us has ever had a chance to date anyone else. How can anyone be sure they've met the right person when..."  
  
Once Icheb started talking, his words spilled out over themselves. He repeated all the pros and cons of his relationship with Naomi. From time to time Marla murmured short replies to his increasingly rhetorical questions. Icheb followed orders and kept her awake for the forty minutes it took for him to fly the _Delta Flyer_ back to _Voyager_ , but later, Icheb had to admit that what she'd actually said to him in response had barely registered.  
  
As they were making their final approach to _Voyager's_ landing site, the comm system crackled: _"EMH calling the_ Delta Flyer _"_  
  
"Yes, Doctor?"  
  
_"Icheb, is that you at the helm? Where is Lieutenant Paris?"_  
  
"He's with Lieutenant Torres. She's having her baby."  
  
_"Not before I get there! Patch me through to..."_ The cry of a newborn interrupted the Doctor's demand.  
  
_"Never mind. Just beam me aboard when you get here."_  
  
*  
  
"Here she is! Oh, B'Elanna, she's beautiful! She looks just like you!"  
  
B'Elanna collapsed back upon the biobed as Tom placed the wailing baby upon her stomach. B'Elanna steadied the baby for Tom as he quickly and efficiently tied off and cut the cord connecting mother and daughter. "And then there were two," Tom announced with pride.  
  
For a brief moment, Tom's eyes met hers. While it wasn't exactly up to their normal standards for romantic looks, as the first moment they were a family, it was one of the most memorable. That moment lasted only for a few seconds, however. Tom was all business, producing a blanket and swaddling his daughter before presenting her to B'Elanna. "See? It happened very quickly. Miral just had to make up her mind it was time for her to be born. Just like the Doc and I said."  
  
"You know, if I weren't so exhausted from having a baby, I'd probably break a bone or two of yours just for rubbing it in."  
  
"Just as long as it's a clavicle or two," Tom purred, as he floated another blanket over B'Elanna. "I know how to fix those."  
  
B'Elanna didn't have a chance to reply. She felt the _Delta Flyer_ touch down, just as Tom bent down to kiss his new daughter's forehead ridges, followed by a soft kiss with B'Elanna. Their lips were still touching when a waspish voice intruded.  
  
"I see I've managed to miss all the fun, as usual!" the Doctor harrumphed. "What a family! Not a cooperative bone in any of your bodies. Miral Torres Paris, you were supposed to wait to be born until you were back on _Voyager._ I was supposed to be the one to deliver you! I suppose you'll be fighting me every inch of the way, never conforming to doctor's orders, just like your parents."  
  
"Ah, stow it, Doc. She's an angel. Admit it."  
  
The Doctor's probe whirred quietly as he moved it over B'Elanna and Miral. "And a very healthy angel at that. Mother and baby are doing just fine. Good work, Mister Paris."  
  
"All he did was catch her! I did all of the work!" B'Elanna complained.  
  
"You most certainly did, B'Elanna! I never meant to imply otherwise. Let me convey my sincere good wishes to your entire family," the Doctor said, all bantering set aside as he offered his congratulations.  
  
"Our entire family. That has a nice ring to it," B'Elanna agreed.  
  
"Well, then, where are my other patients? Ms. Gilmore is upstairs on the flight deck, I presume, along with Icheb and his bad ankle?"  
  
"No, I'm right here, thanks to Icheb," Marla said, as she moved into the room with Icheb's assistance. "B'Elanna, your baby is gorgeous," Marla gushed woozily. As Marla and B'Elanna rhapsodized over Miral's perfection, the Doctor surreptitiously took out his probe and waved it over Marla, clucking over his findings, although a small smile never left his lips.  
  
"Congratulations, Tom," Icheb said, as the pilot moved away from the increasingly crowded area around the biobed.  
  
"Thanks, Icheb. Nice job getting us back here. Hey, is something on your mind? You look a little distracted."  
  
Icheb shrugged. "I know you're too busy to talk now, because of your family."  
  
"I'll never be too busy to talk things out with you, Icheb."  
  
The young man smiled at him, prompting Tom to add something he'd been thinking about saying for a while, but hadn't had the chance to, before this. "I think the Doctor is about to kick us all out so he can examine my family, so let's go back up to the flight deck. While I treat your ankle, we can talk. There's something I've been meaning to speak with you about for quite a while now..."  
  



	7. Act 5

****Act 5  
  
"Oh, Mom, he doesn't love me anymore! What am I going to do?" Naomi wailed disconsolately, kneeling next to her mother, her head upon Samantha's lap.  
  
"Honey, I don't think Icheb told you he didn't love you," Sam said quietly, rubbing circles on her daughter's back the way she used to whenever Naomi had a "boo-boo." This one, of the heart, would be much harder for her daughter to bear.  
  
"He doesn't want to marry me!"  
  
"But look at his reasons, Naomi. I'm sorry, but I have to agree with him on every one. Even for a Ktarian, you're very young to make such an important choice in life. _Especially_ for Ktarians, who mate for life. Your father's family was very unhappy when he told them he was going to marry me. They see humans as being too flighty for a life match. His parents thought I wouldn't take marriage as seriously as they do. It wasn't easy for him to stick up for me when he made his decision. And Gres was twenty-two when we got married, and already a full lieutenant."  
  
"They finally came around, didn't they?"  
  
"Yes, they did, and from his letters, I know they're relieved about the way things turned out. Despite our long separation, I've been faithful to him, and he has to me. And I always will be, Naomi, because I made that choice with my eyes wide open. No other husband, Naomi, not even if your father dies -- that's what a Ktarian life mating means. Your father and I hoped you would want to adhere to that tradition when you marry. You've never had any experience with a boy other than Icheb. Do you really think you can be so sure he's the one you'd be willing to live your life alone for, if you had to? No matter what?"  
  
"How can anyone know that, ever? It's amazing Ktarians ever get married at all!"  
  
"Well, you _can_ be that sure about someone, and Ktarians do get married, all the time."  
  
"But he doesn't love me the way I love him."  
  
Sam considered her next words carefully; she knew Naomi would hold her to them forever. Finally, she decided to go ahead. In her gut, she knew she was right about Icheb.  
  
"Honey, Icheb came to me right after he talked to you, to explain. He told me he loves you very much. He wants to be your boyfriend, but he thinks anything more wouldn't be right for you right now. It troubles him that you've never had a chance to date anyone else but him. He wants you to be certain he's the one you want to spend your whole life with. He admitted he might feel differently if we still expected _Voyager_ to take another twenty years to reach home. But if we're able to perfect the slipstream drive, and it works the way we think it will, we could be home in a year. He's studied Ktarian culture. Icheb understands what is expected of him by marrying you. He knows he risks losing you by waiting, but he doesn't ever want you to regret your choice."  
  
"I won't regret it, Mom!"  
  
_Ah, to be so young,_ Sam thought, but she said, "If you really are meant to be together, Naomi, you will be, even if you meet other nice people in the Alpha Quadrant. Icheb isn't saying he doesn't love you, or that he doesn't want to be with you; just that you both need to wait, to be sure, before making a commitment like this."  
  
"Maybe it means he just wants to be free to date other people when we get back to the Alpha Quadrant!"  
  
"I can't say that isn't true, Honey, but I really don't think that's why he made this decision. Just think, Naomi, you have a family, and he doesn't. The way I see it, that means he truly loves you. He'd have one if he married you, but he cares more about your happiness than he does his own. You asked me before how someone can promise herself to one person for her entire life, in a Ktarian life-mating. That's how, Naomi."  
  
"And if we never get _Voyager_ off New Hope? What then?"  
  
"Naomi, you know we expect to get _Voyager_ off New Hope, but if we can't, that might change things. But even then, waiting a while before an engagement and marriage would still be wise. You are awfully young, Naomi, and so is he. He understands how much of a responsibility being your husband would be. You're both just starting out in life. I have to say, I respect Icheb more now than I ever did before. He really has thought this through. You know, if things do work out between you someday, I could do a lot worse for a son-in-law!"  
  
"Oh, Mom, but I love him so much!"  
  
"Then love him enough, Naomi, to be as considerate of his welfare as he's being about yours."  
  
Naomi began to sob quietly. Sam did her best to comfort her daughter. When her tears ceased, Naomi remained curled up on the floor for quite a while, leaning against her mother's knee, thinking her own thoughts. Finally, she raised her red and swollen eyes to her mother's face and, with the barest of nods, accepted her mother's wisdom -- and Icheb's.  
  
*****  
  
When Marla heard that the _Sacajawea's_ ETA was at 0500 hours, she arranged to be off duty and waiting at the shuttle bay by 0445. She hadn't had any lasting effects from the concussion she’d sustained five days ago, and she was eager to see Harry.  
  
"Wow, you're up early!" Harry called to her as he stepped out of the shuttle, two steps behind Commander Chakotay.  
  
"I thought you might enjoy a welcoming committee, even if it's only me," she answered.  
  
"I do. How's that noggin of yours?" Harry asked as he approached.  
  
She laughed and patted his arm when he came within reach. "Angelo and Noah are threatening to make me wear a helmet whenever I'm on an away mission now, but I'm fine, really."  
  
"Glad to hear it," Harry replied. Turning to Chakotay, he asked, "Commander, is there anything else before I go?"  
  
"No, Harry. I'm not going to report to the captain until 0600. I'll have time to take care of things here," Chakotay said. "You're dismissed. Enjoy yourself."  
  
Marla didn't miss the sparkle in the first officer's eye, or the quick appearance and disappearance of his dimples. She didn't really care; she'd have to get used to it, if things went the way she wanted them to.  
  
Tucking her arm underneath his elbow, she steered Harry out the corridor and pointed him towards the turbolift.  
  
"Do you want to stop at the Mess Hall for breakfast?" Harry asked.  
  
"I'd be just as happy with something from the replicator in your quarters, actually," Marla said.  
  
Harry gave her a long look. "That's a change."  
  
She took a deep breath and, since the corridor was deserted, took the plunge. "I've had a chance to think about some things, and yes, there's been a change."  
  
Harry stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her, waiting. She'd expected to tell him once they got to his quarters, but she couldn't wait that long.  
  
"Harry, after I had the concussion at Tall Girl Mountain, Tom told Icheb to talk to me, to keep me awake while we were coming back here on the _Delta Flyer_. He spilled out how he feels about Naomi, and about how he loves her, but he thinks he's too young to think about making a commitment to another person for the rest of his life.  
  
"It's funny, I guess, but when I was lying in Sickbay afterwards, I thought about the same sorts of things. But I'm not a young kid any more. I came to a different conclusion than Icheb about what I wanted. Whenever you've asked me The Question, Harry, I said no, because I know how much your Starfleet career means to you, and being involved with one of the _Equinox_ Five..."  
  
"Marla, don't worry about that. It doesn't matter to me."  
  
"It does matter, Harry. But I love you. I've been worrying about what life is going to be like when we get back home, but after getting myself knocked out again, I realized something. Who knows if I'm even going to get home in one piece? Why should I deny myself a little happiness now because of a past I wish I could change, but can't, no matter how hard I try?"  
  
"Marla..."  
  
"Harry, let me finish, because I'm not sure I'll ever be able to say this again. I'm not going to make any promises to you about a life commitment, or ask you for any, either. I'm not a Ktarian like Naomi. As much as I'd love to have a future together, I don't think we're going to, not the one we both wish we could have. Who knows? What I'm anticipating may _not_ happen. Maybe it will be okay, like you think. But whatever my future will be, I'll face it when it comes. I'm not going to put the rest of my life on hold just because of some tomorrow that may never come."  
  
"Marla, I love you so much. I'll stand by you no matter..."  
  
"Hush, Harry. Don't say any more. Just ask me The Question again, because this time, I'll have another answer -- for as long as it lasts. That's all I can promise you, Harry. For as long as it lasts. I hope that will be enough."  
  
Harry's intense gaze softened. His lips curved into a gentle smile. "Why should I ask The Question again, Marla Gilmore, when you've already given me The Answer?"  
  
She threw her arms around Harry and kissed him, not caring who might come by to see them.  
  
And Harry kissed her back, promising himself that no matter what the future held, they would face it together.   
  



	8. Epilogue

** Epilogue **

Captain's Log, Stardate 54959.9  
  
_Chakotay and Harry Kim returned home today from their mission. The representatives of the United Grevel-Ash-Gunruth'u-Minenne-Vordai Assembly, as they are calling their infant confederation, have agreed to allow Voyager to mine sufficient kolander ore to make their slipstream drive work -- but only sufficient, and no more. Mr. Carey and the rest of the engineering staff have begun to work on the new drive's construction, while two dozen members of our crew have already begun operations at the mining camp at Tall Girl Mountain. At this point, we know we will need at least three tons of ore, but the exact numbers have not yet been calculated by Mr. Carey's team. We'll report to the Treaty Worlds about the actual amount we are removing for our use as soon as we have accurate figures to give them. We hope we can obtain enough kolander ore for our entire trip home and restore the environment of the area to its natural state, as nearly as possible, within the next month or two._   
  
"Anything else I should add, Commander?"   
  
Chakotay shook his head. "I think that about covers it."   
  
"I'm a little surprised they were so accommodating, given their attitude when we first arrived here."   
  
He chuckled. “I’m not sure ‘accommodating’ is the word I would use. It was touch and go for a while. The Grevel-Ash seemed particularly affronted that we wanted to change the terms of our agreement, and they nearly derailed the discussion before it began. But the Minenne ambassador supported our good faith – we’ve made a friend there, I think. The Vordai and Minenne realized that expecting us to repair our ship and get off New Hope without taking any materials at all from the planet was unrealistic. They convinced the Grevel-Ash representatives to agree to this 'minor concession.' And the Gunruth’u view us as a ‘destabilizing influence,’ according to the Vordai representatives I spoke with.”   
  
"I wonder why the Gunruth'u should think that?" Kathryn said, trying but failing to speak lightly. She was still sporting emotional bruises from their experience on the Gunruth’u prison world.   
  
"I can't imagine," Chakotay said, in a complete deadpan. “Other than completely gutting their workforce and exposing their military weakness to the other three systems, they have nothing to complain about.”   
  
That brought a smile. "I guess they'll be very happy to see our backs, then."   
  
He returned her smile, but became serious again. "There's something else. From some of the questions I was asked by a committee of warp propulsion experts from all four worlds, I think it's safe to say that they have more understanding of the properties and potential of kolander ore than they've let on officially. I don't think it's a Prime Directive violation to have discussed this technology with them. The real reason they want us to get off New Hope is that until we're gone, they can't get their hands on the kolander ore to experiment with the stuff themselves."   
  
"I'll be very happy to leave them to their experiments!"   
  
"Me, too." He paused, then added softly, "It's good to be back home, Kathryn."   
  
At that moment, the respect, admiration, and friendship for this man welled up into a desire for so much more. Thanks to the Gunruth'u, she no longer had to imagine what she was missing; she had only to remember it. For so long, she'd ignored a large part of her life, telling herself it was for the good of all. For the past few days, however, she'd longed to speak with him, laugh with him, and confide in him. Starfleet discipline could only replace so much of one's life.   
  
Since she still believed in that discipline, however, Kathryn said only, "It's good to have you back, too."   
  
  


End

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Rocky, who helped edit "Age of Consent" with her usual eagle eye, and to Christina (fmlyhntr) and the other writers in the group, who provided several short subjects to fill the dates when this story was late back in 2001-2002 (what can I say? Life happens, and the writing sometimes has to wait a bit).
> 
> **Disclaimer:** You know, the usual. Paramount owns everything. We just play around with the characters to give them a bit more life to live, now that the series finished airing new episodes eighteen years ago.
> 
> **Next Up:** Two holiday stories: "A Reason for the Season," an Interlude about the observance of the Christmas season on Voyager when it was on New Hope, and "Celebrations: The Prixin Logs," another of our group efforts. Prixin, the Talaxian celebration of family, has become an integral part of Voyager's year. It's a time of remembrance, hope...and change.


End file.
